


just like heaven

by weepies



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SOFT RICHIE, eddie is a mess, richie learns bass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:05:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepies/pseuds/weepies
Summary: “You mean something to me,” Richie choked out.“You mean something to me, too,” Eddie replied, because it was true and Richie looked like he needed to hear it.“I don’t mean it like that.” Richie adjusted his glasses—one of his nervous ticks. “You mean something to me, like… like I don’t fucking know what. But it’s more than what Bill means to me, or Bev. It’s different.”





	just like heaven

Richie told Eddie he had something to show him.

Eddie didn’t know what to expect; when Richie had asked if he was free later, Eddie expected the question to come with a remark, a joke about his mother or about himself, but it never came. When there was a lack of jokes with Richie, Eddie had learned to take those situations seriously.

Eddie rode his bike over to Richie’s house, curiosity emerging from his questioning thoughts.  _Why does Richie want me over? He never invites me over. He never invites_ ** _anyone_** _over._

_Maybe I’m not anyone._

The thought put an odd feeling in Eddie’s chest. He pulled to a stop outside of Richie’s house and dragged his bike over to the side of the building. It rested next to the water hose. Unsure of what to do afterwards, Eddie collected a few pebbles and tossed them up at Richie’s window. He could only hope Richie would answer.

_One pebble, two pebbles, three pebb—_ the window s;ammed open and the rock Eddie had thrown flew past Richie and into the room behind him. “What the hell, Eds? You ever used a front door?”

“Your parents,” Eddie said, and that was explanation enough. “I didn’t know if…”

“Mom’s at the store. Dad’s at work,” Richie replied. And then, “come to the front door.” The window shut and Eddie stood there, dumbfounded for a moment. His palms were clammy; he always got like that with Richie, jittery and nervous and excited all at once. It was almost as if—

“You coming or what, Eds?” A loud voice called from the front of the house. Eddie turned to look. Richie was standing on his porch, leaning over the railing to get a good look at Eddie.

“Yeah, trashmouth!” Eddie called. “And don’t call me Eds!”

When they were both inside, Eddie tried not to look around, but it was  _so_ hard. There were bottles all over the living room floor, stains on the carpet… “It’s in my room,” Richie said to steal Eddie’s focus from the room around them. Nodding his head, Eddie picked up his pace to walk next to Richie. Richie’s hand was by his side, and if Eddie reached out just then he could hold it.

_Richie’s hand._

“Here.” Richie pushed the door to his bedroom open and walked inside, holding the door for Eddie. “Just… sit on the floor.”

“I don’t even get a seat?” Eddie questioned, a prompt for their usual bickering, only this time Richie didn’t retaliate. He mumbled something under his breath and went to sit on his bed, so Eddie just did what he was told and sat on the floor. Looking up at Richie, Eddie tried to place what this could be about, but he drew a blank every time. Things between them had been great, amazing even. They’d been more affectionate, more exclusive; there was  _something_  there, even if neither boy knew what it was yet.

_There are probably so many germs on this floor._

Eddie tried not to think about it so much and kept his hands in his lap.

They sat in silence for a while. Eddie didn’t know what to do, so he just stared at Richie. Richie was nervous, an unfamiliar look on him. His black curls fell across his forehead, his glasses smudged, lips pursed.

“Richie—“ Eddie started to speak but was cut off immediately.

“You mean something to me,” Richie choked out.

“You mean something to me, too,” Eddie replied, because it was true and Richie looked like he needed to hear it.

“I don’t mean it like that.” Richie adjusted his glasses—one of his nervous ticks. “You mean something to me, like… like I don’t fucking know what. But it’s more than what Bill means to me, or Bev. It’s different.”

_I know it’s different._

_I’ve known it’s been different for a long time now._

“I want to play you something,” Richie said suddenly. Then he rose to his feet and went over to stand near his closet door. With hand on the doorknob, Richie looked like he was fighting conflicting thoughts. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Fuck,” he said again, and Eddie didn’t know why.

“Rich?” Eddie’s voice was quiet, concerned.

Richie said nothing, but pulled open his closet door and revealed a sleek, dark bass.

“Holy shit, Richie, why didn’t you tell me you got that?! That’s fucking awesome.” Eddie couldn’t help himself—it  _was_  awesome. He didn’t even know Richie could play an instrument!

Richie didn’t say anything. Eddie shut up immediately, even though his entire being was  _begging_  to ask Richie to teach him a chord or two. Then Eddie remembered what Richie had said: _he wants to play me something._

Sitting back down on his bed, Richie placed the bass on his leg and positioned his fingers on the strings. Eddie looked away. A few minutes passed. Eddie didn’t say anything because what was he to say? His heart was beating too fast for him to think coherently.

Eddie heard the pluck of a string. His eyes immediately flickered back to Richie, to his plucking fingers.

And then, as if this could get any better, Eddie heard a low hum of lyrics.

Richie was  _singing_. Singing to  _Eddie_. The words were kind of hard to make out because of how quietly Richie was singing, but they were familiar lyrics. Lyrics to a song Eddie knew Richie loved, but one he never knew reminded Richie of him.

“You, soft and only. You, lost and lonely,” Richie sang, voice shaky. The next part his fingers hesitated, out of practice, but he continued nonetheless. “You, strange as angels. Dancing in the deepest oceans… twisting in the water… you’re just like a dream. You’re just like a dream.”

It was quiet after that. Richie put his instrument down and fumbled with his glasses again. Sometime during Richie’s playing Eddie had pulled his knees to his chest. Maybe he thought that would keep his heart from bursting out.

“It was fucking lame but I like that song and I like—“ Richie stopped. The look on his face was one of embarrassment, disbelief, Eddie didn’t know; he had never seen Richie’s cheeks turn that dark a shade of red before.

Unsure of what else to do, Eddie pulled his knees from his chest and stood up, taking the seat next to Richie on the bed. They were both sitting with their feet hanging off, facing forward. Eddie had never wanted to kiss somebody before just then, looking at Richie’s crimson face and tired eyes.

Placing a hand to Richie’s closest cheek, Eddie took a deep breath. Richie seemed to lean into his touch, or maybe that was just him turning to look at what Eddie was doing. Neither boy said anything as Eddie moved closer. Eddie didn’t even really know what was going on until his lips were on Richie’s. Richie didn’t pull back, like Eddie worried he would, he just leaned slightly into it. Then it was over and Eddie didn’t know if he had just ruined their friendship (or whatever they were spiraling into).

“I just wanted to kiss you,” Eddie said, and he wished he hadn’t. He closed his eyes. Why did he spew embarrassing garbage when he was nervous?

Richie exhaled through his nose, something of a laugh, and when Eddie opened his eyes Richie was smiling back at him, teeth and all.  _What a pretty smile_ , Eddie thought.

“Thanks, Eds!” Richie replied, back to his old self. Then he put on that dumb British accent he was always doing, “you’ve got quite the smile yourself!”

“Psh.” Eddie took his hand off Richie’s cheek. “You’re so quick from a  _sap_  to a  _bother_.”

“Ouch.” Richie feigned hurt, holding a hand over his heart.

“Yeah, yeah. When the hell did you get a bass?” Eddie asked.

“Few weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Wanted to surprise you,” Richie said, and surprise Eddie he did. “Did you like the song?”

“Yup.” Eddie thought he was blushing. “It sounded  _just like heaven_.”

“Ha, ha.” Richie rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna learn more songs so I can play for you more.”

Eddie’s heart was pounding so hard he imagined Richie might be able to hear it. “That’d be cool.” It’d be more than cool, but Richie could read into Eddie’s reply. “Teach me something?”

_You, soft and only._

Richie lifted his bass and started to tell Eddie where to position his fingers for each chord. There was a lot to remember, and Eddie found it harder to focus on the instructions rather than the instructor.

_You, lost and lonely._

Especially when Richie smiled so bright.

_You, just like heaven._


End file.
